Modern Lit – The Next Night

The next night…

The next night, after several bottles of wine, Gregory went back to the parlour and again picked Lucy from the line-up of women. Her skin was gold and bared. It was very erotic. Gregory was the only customer and except for the girls the parlour was empty.

Unlike the night before, this time he entered Lucy; and she sat herself reverse cowgirl and slid up and down until he climaxed. She was sweet with him, yet firm and commanding, sensual and erotic. He was very drunk, very damaged.

‘There you go honey,’ she said, smiling. She was pulling up her lingerie. ‘Did you enjoy that, sweetie?’

Lucy was older than Gregory by five years, with tattoos on her arms and curly blonde hair. She smelled of ivory soap.

‘Yes, thank you,’ he said.

The room they were in was decorated with purple and gold fabrics. It was an attic and above them stretched wooden rafters. There was a large double bed with netting. Beside it was a red panic button. The shower was in an adjoining room. Gregory wondered how many men had been in here.

‘What do you do during the day,’ he asked, as they sat together.

‘I do this,’ said Lucy. She lit a cigarette and shook the match out. ‘But I go to men’s houses. It pays more.’

He sighed. ‘It’s been a long time since I was with a woman.’

‘It’s okay, sweetie.’

Gregory was very drunk and feeling sick, a strip of pain across his lower back. ‘Where do you live?’ he asked.

‘In the city. I have my own place.’

‘So you live alone?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you have a boyfriend?’

She looked at the floor. ‘No.’

‘But you’re very nice,’ he told her. ‘Very nice. You should get someone.’

She was biting her lip and nodding. A great silence engulfed them. Outside the sounds of Christchurch drifted up through a window. The room grew hot and stuffy and Gregory, pulling at his collar, began to feel a great unease. As if sensing this, Lucy stood from the bed and put her cigarette out in the ashtray on the side.

They were both frightened.

Later that week at a different place, Gregory was drunk and depressed on the bed with another girl beside him. They were naked. The room was warm and smelled of lavender. Helen was very thin, young, a brunette with large brown eyes. She was quite beautiful. ‘I’ve never done that before,’ Gregory told her. He was properly drunk.

‘Were you a virgin?’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Was I good?’

‘You made me come,’ she lied.

Gregory chuckled, but it was sad and alone. ‘You’re pretty, you know that.’

Helen couldn’t help but blush. She tucked a strand of loose hair behind an ear. Around them the air was tight and hot on their skin. The sound of the air-conditioner buzzed and clicked by the far wall.

‘You have nice skin,’ she said, stroking his arm with her fingers. ‘Usually we get old men in here and their skin is horrible and they smell funny,’ she said. ‘We got excited when you walked in.’ She paused, glanced reluctantly at the door. ‘You’ll have to go now.’

‘I have a brain tumour,’ he told her, surprising them both. ‘I have six months.’

She gasped and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Oh my. Is that true? I’m so sorry.’ She was close to tears. Her arms trembled. ‘You poor thing.’

‘I have nothing to live for,’ he said.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said again. She didn’t know what to do.

Gregory was swaying, drowsily, his head spinning. ‘What did you do before you worked here?’ he asked.

Helen glanced away, still in shock, and with her voice breaking she said, ‘I was at school.’

All of a sudden she was very lost.

‘Shit.’ He began to focus. ‘Is this your first job?’

She opened her mouth to speak but could form no words. Instead, slowly, she closed her eyes and nodded.

Gregory left her sitting naked on the bed. On the way out he thanked the madam and made his way down the stairs, into the night of Christchurch city and on to the bars to get loaded.